Starlight
by steshin
Summary: AUish. AltoSheryl. Fueled by nothing but his desire for revenge, Saotome Alto abducts Sheryl Nome to carry out justice overdue until things get out of hand. He now finds himself in conflict between his loyalty as a soldier and as a man.
1. Horoscope

Starlight

_by steshin_

_beta-ed by forgottendiary_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Macross Frontier._

_

* * *

_It wasn't a shabby place. As long as you ignored the intimidation it screamed within the closure of the establishment and the menacing looks given to you with a passion. Leon Mishima ignored the obvious glares directed at him and made his way to the table at the far corner. Those heated stares meant that they did not welcome the likes of Leon Mishima, a man that was obviously better than them—financially and beyond to their little hidey-ho. They were pathetic…and Leon relished on how he was so much superior to these lowlifes.

He found his seat and waited. Passing time, he observed the place. Muscled men that looked like oily pigs filled the tables, playing poker and guzzling down booze. Some were playing pool, others stuffing their dirty mouths with greasy undercooked morsels of meat. Leon snuffled in disgust—bad choice, cigarette smoke and the stench of vomit and sweat entered his nostrils. Leon reeled and pinched his nose while trying to clear his head.

He opened his eyes and found the person he was waiting for occupying the seat across him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," was his companion's greeting. "I had to take care of a few errands." The smile given to Leon after that statement was malicious and malevolent. Leon, a man who thrived on information, didn't want to know what those errands were but a gut feeling told him it involved something nasty. Something he—the President's Aide—would not want to sully his hands with. Leon always left the dirty work to his people, it was convenient and easy. He didn't like dealing with messy business but clearly the person sitting before him thought otherwise.

"How goes the plan?" Leon asked in his silky business tone.

A smirk was his reply.

"It's going smoothly. I just finished working out a few _bugs_."

_Who were the bugs you had to kill off? _Leon wanted to ask, but bit his tongue. Details like that probably weren't all that important. As long as the plan was going to roll, insignificant details weren't much to ponder on. _Keep your eyes on the prize._

His cohort pulled out a card and passed it to Leon over the dirty tabletop.

"That is your latest instruction. Do it well and we'll be a step closer to our goals."

Leon read it.

Reread it.

He smiled.

---

Michel frowned at the sight before him. He let out a sigh.

"Alto, you look like hell."

Alto snorted, "Nice to see you, too."

Michel shoved a hand into his hair and thought he had his work cut out for him. Alto was a mess. His place was a mess…and Michel was no cleaning lady. He watched his friend empty down a can of beer.

"Didn't I tell you to stop drinking?" He reprimanded, hands on his hips, face stamped with disapproval.

Alto looked at Michel. He chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"You sound like a wife."

"What?"

"You look like one, too."

"Well damn."

He plopped down on the empty space of the couch next to Alto. Alto reached out for another can. Michel frowned but decided to give the nagging a break and snatched a can himself. They drank down like thirsty dogs.

Both were on their third cans when Michel spoke.

"Ozma's been asking for you again."

"Nosy git." He crunched up the can in his hand, as easy as crumpling a mere piece of paper. Michel continued.

"He wants to know when you're coming back."

Alto sighed with annoyance and threw the deformed can carelessly on the floor. "I already gave him my answer. It won't change no matter how many times he sends you to sic at me."

"That's what I keep telling him, but he thinks you're just in a phase and expects you to come around." Michel stretched out his legs and let out a yawn. "He's persistent, you're stubborn and I'm in the middle."

"Annoying is more like it."

"Hey, I'm just following orders here. Something you had a hard time doing."

Alto smiled wryly. He and Michel had been in the army, they had hit off as friends right off the bat. Sometimes he wondered how he became fast friends with him. Michel was a playboy, he loved to talk and interact with other people—especially the opposite sex. He was also one hell of a sniper. Alto was the complete opposite of his friend. The only thing they had in common was a sense of justice and duty.

They had fought together and worked side by side—that was until the incident. The incident that changed everything…Because of that, he quit the military—unable to forgive himself, unable to focus on what he was doing. All he had left was guilt and rage. He was hurting and raging…all because of one person.

Michel glanced at his watch. "Well, it's obvious you're not going to entertain any notion of going back."

"Leaving?"

His friend's smug smile sparkled, "Got a date tonight."

Alto rolled his eyes, "You haven't changed."

"Yeah, well so have you," Michel pointed a finger at him; "You wore that shirt yesterday."

---

"Love is coming your way!" Bobby let out a girly squeal, "Says so right here in your horoscope, girly." He tossed the glossy magazine on Sheryl's lap. Sheryl raised an amused brow and read out the small paragraph that got her make-up artist excited.

"Be prepared for change. Do not be afraid of new circumstances, rather conquer it. New interests and a potential lover are coming your way…" Sheryl smiled and tossed the magazine back at Bobby.

"Isn't this wonderful?" Bobby gushed, "You'll find your soul mate!"

Sheryl crossed her legs and looked into the vanity mirror. "I don't believe in fate printed on paper," she remarked to Bobby who pouted at that. "I make my own fate," She stared into a pair of determined eyes in the mirror. Unconsciously, she touched one of her earrings, her mother's earrings. It was the only memento she had of her. She had no pictures or memories. Only the glittering jewels hanging on each earlobe. It comforted Sheryl to think that her mother has always been with her just by wearing it.

Bobby planted a hand on his hip, "Music is great and all, sweetie…but wouldn't it be nice to find a nice boy?"

Sheryl dismissed such a thought with a wave of a hand. "I'm Sheryl. Sheryl Nome. I don't need any silly romance. I live as myself."

Bobby gnawed at his inner cheeks. "Sounds boring…but whatever makes you happy."

He set the magazine on the small glass table before taking place behind Sheryl to brush her luxurious hair.

"Looks like we'll be busy with the schedule Grace has set for you," Bobby said, fighting off a few stubborn knots, "your concert is scheduled in a few days and before that you'll have interviews and TV appearances to do. It's going to be hectic."

"I can handle it."

"My, how sassy... Where do you get such confidence?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sheryl looked into the mirror once more, facing her proud reflection.

"It's because I'm Sheryl."


	2. Empty

Starlight

_by __steshin_

_beta-ed by f__orgottendiary_

_Disclaimer: I __do not__ own Macross Frontier.

* * *

_

Cathy Glass stared at the ceiling, the heady sensations of the alcohol swimming in her head. On her bed stand was a bottle of wine and a two wineglasses. One was half-empty and the other, unused. She had spent the whole evening waiting and drinking—much more on the latter.

An icy prickle of pain tingled in her head. She winced, touching her forehead. Her arms and legs felt like columns of goo and it felt as if something was weighing down on her chest, making it hard to get up. In short, it was a pain to move.

"…Damn you, Leon."

Her face wrinkled, thinking about her fiancé who never showed up for the dinner she had prepared.

Leon had called to tell her that he would be running late a few hours ago. Cathy seethed as she remembered the smooth voice on the phone. "Bastard," she growled.

The door opened. Cathy didn't move. She already knew who it was.

"Cathy," Leon closed the door soundly behind him, "sorry to keep you waiting."

Cathy didn't feel like talking to him, not in this state, so she pretended to be sleeping. She heard the rustling of clothes.

"I had to take care of some paperwork," she heard the rasp of his zipper, "you know how it is."

She heard him approach the bed, the carpet muffling his steps.

"I really do apologize." Cathy felt the mattress sink a bit, as Leon's weight came on to the other side of the bed.

"I hope you forgive me…"

Cathy didn't say anything.

"Ah…" His voice turned husky, "is that how it is…"

Cathy continued on pretending to be asleep—until she felt Leon's hand between her thighs.

---

"A what?"

"A get-together," Michel spoke on the line, "You, me, Luca and a bunch of our other comrades from the Quarter. You know, for old time's sake."

"Humph. You mean for _my_ sake."

Michel sighed. "C'mon Alto, just do it. It's not like you have anything better to do."

Alto dug into his pocket and played with his pocket change while listening to Michel blabbing on his cell phone. Michel had bragged about being hired for a cool gig then sprung the surprise on him.

"Oh and there'll be a couple of new rookies! C'mon, we get to haze them, doesn't that sound fun?"

"You're grasping at straws here."

"Yeah, so spare me the embarrassment and say yes already."

Alto pretended to give it some thought before answering, "No, sorry. Can't come…"

Of course, Michel wouldn't buy it. "Yeah right, you just don't want to!"

"Duh."

"C'mon Alto! Please, you can just sulk the whole time while you're there just as long as you're seen with other people!"

"Michel, I'm hanging up…"

"Don't you dare!"

"I'm going to"—

"Fine, you've made me take out my trump card."

"Goodbye"—

"Ranka-chan is coming."

Alto didn't hang up.

---

Sheryl was reading the questions that would appear on her interview. Grace had given it to her earlier, saying that it was best to come prepared with the right answers in advance. When she asked Grace how she got hold of them, Grace just gave her a tender smile and said. "I have my ways; I just want everything to go perfectly for you."

"But how?"

"I have my connections. That's all you need to know. After all, aren't I your manager? Besides, we should have the upper hand not the interviewers. Wouldn't it be a nice turnaround? "

Her manager gave her a sweet smile before walking to the door. Then, remembering something, she spun around once more to Sheryl.

"Ah, and I picked up some new outfits for you. Try them on and pick what you want to wear for the interview. All from your favorite designers, fresh off the runway..." Grace regarded the singer with one last smile before disappearing behind the automated doors.

Sheryl sighed, placing the questions down, "Grace sure is something…I can't imagine what it would be like without her…"

But in reality, Sheryl could imagine. It made her shudder to think about it.

---

Alto hated karaoke. He knew Michel planned this little get-together for his sake, so why on earth did he choose to do something that _he _hated? Then again, this was just like Michel…

"Hey, Alto! Loosen up!" The micronized form of Lt. Klan barked at him. "And smile, damn it! You look like a Vajra that hasn't seen a mating season!"

"What an interesting choice of words, Klan." Michel teased poking the child-like loli micron on the cheek.

Klan's face raged red, "Michel, you!" What followed was the usual chase game between the lieutenant and the sniper with cheers and laughter surrounding them. Alto couldn't help but smile a little. _These idiots haven't changed…_ His smile fell when he realized how he was the only one who had changed for the worse.

He had changed…

Some people may not be able to see it, but those who knew him could see how he wasn't the same man after what had happened. He was fighting the guilt that continued to consume him everyday. It haunted him every night, making sleeping a difficult task. When he did sleep, he was plagued by nightmares that wouldn't leave him alone.

Alto was too lost in his thoughts that he didn't pay heed to the bad singing and noisy chatters going around him. He did however perk up when the booth's door opened and a certain green-haired girl, who was his purpose for accepting the invitation in the first place, stepped in.

"Ah, Ranka-chan!" Michel greeted with glee while trying to shake Klan off his leg. "Glad you could make it."

Ranka acknowledged the greetings directed at her with a polite nod while her eyes searched the small crowd. She stopped when she met Alto's eyes. The noise faded away.

Alto surmised that Ranka had the same reason as him for coming.

---

"I want you to stop it, Alto-kun..." Ranka spoke in a soft voice. She wouldn't look him in the eyes. They were outside of the booth room. Ranka had excused herself to the ladies' room shortly after she had arrived. Alto knew that was an excuse for something else, a sign for him to do the same so they could have a little talk.

"Ranka, what are you"—

She shook her head violently, "I'm tired of you always checking up on me! I'm not a little kid!" Her words trembled from her mouth, eyes glazing wet.

"Look, Alto-kun. I know it must have been hard on you…it still is, isn't it?" Her body began shaking. Alto could only stay on his spot, frozen, unsure of what to do. Ranka looked so small and so fragile, as if the slightest touch could break her…

"Alto-kun, I want to move on…" she whispered. "But it's hard when you…" The tears were choking her.

"Ranka…" He held out a hand, but that was just it. He made no further actions. He could only watch her break down.

"You keep reminding me of the past when all I want to do is forget about it!" She was crying openly, her pained eyes stabbing his soul with accusation. Alto could feel her pain. It was so much stronger than his. And it made him sick in the stomach to know that she was suffering like this—all because of him. It was his fault…

---

Michel watched sadly as Alto fumbled with the keys to his door. The sniper had hoped that Alto would be able to find closure if he had met up with Ranka. Alto always sent letters and emails to the girl; but never did he contact her personally. Judging from Alto's zombie-like state, Michel concluded that it wasn't a good idea after all. He would never play doctor again—outside the bedroom that is.

"Alto"—

"I've had enough, Michel…"

Michel gritted his teeth. "What happened wasn't your fault"—

"It was!"

"Damn it! You made a mistake but that was only because"—

"Michel, I've had enough!"

Michel rushed forward and took a hold on Alto's collar. "Just stop it, Alto! Let it go already!" He began shaking him, trying to get sense into him. "I'm sorry it happened! We're all sorry! But don't take full responsibility for everything!" He pushed Alto against the door. "I want you to stop it, Alto!"

"_I want you to stop it, Alto-kun..."_

Ranka's words echoed inside his head.

"_You keep reminding me of the past when all I want to do is forget about it!"_

The image of Ranka crying flashed through his mind, her eyes leaking tears, staring at him…

Alto let out a howl of pain and pushed Michel with all his strength. His friend fell down with a loud thud, his glasses falling off.

Alto hastily opened his door and locked it as soon as he got in. He slumped down on the floor, his back sliding down the cool wood. The door vibrated with Michel's pounds.

"Alto!"

He ignored his friend's knocks and threats of breaking in and headed into the living room. He threw himself on the couch. He could still hear Michel. It wouldn't be long before the neighbors reprimanded him. Alto grabbed the remote on the floor and decided to block out Michel's noise with TV.

He switched on to a random channel.

The remote dropped.

"_I'm the kind of woman who will do anything to reach my goal…"_

"Alto! For the millionth time, it was never your fault!"

"…_I make my own destiny."_

"It was someone else's!"

"_That is how I became the person I am."_

"Alto!"

"_That is why I'm…"_

"ALTO!"

"_Sheryl. Sheryl Nome."_

Alto stared into the TV screen. Everything around him vanished except for the TV screen.

He saw nothing else.

He heard nothing else.

Only the voice of the young woman who spoke of destiny as if she possessed control over it…


	3. Moment

Starlight

_by __steshin_

_Disclaimer: I __do not__ own Macross Frontier._

_A/N: I apologize that this isn't long.  
Banner: (http: // i22. photobucket. com/ albums/ b301/ steshin/ starlight-banner. gif)  
Copy-paste and delete spaces._

_

* * *

_Sheryl Nome dropped her tired body on her bed, completely exhausted from her day's work. Thankfully, the interview had been the last job of the day, so she could finally relax. The last time she had looked at a clock, it had pointed to 11 o'clock. No doubt that it was probably half past twelve. Sheryl let out a tired yawn before closing her eyes. She heard the door open then close. Without opening her eyes, she knew it was Grace.

"My, you look so tired."

Sheryl groaned in reply.

"I'll have to call the best make-up artist. That way no one will detect a hint of fatigue on your face."

Sheryl half-opened her eyes.

"What…?"

"You forgot? You have an interview for a morning show. We have to be at the studio before 5."

"But Grace," Sheryl pushed herself up in protest, "I've been working non-stop today, surely you could"—

Grace held a palm up, halting Sheryl's complaints. A serene smile graced her lips.

"Now, now, Sheryl…is that how a professional acts? Don't worry, tomorrow you'll find lots of time to rest. You'll need it for your concert that's already fast approaching."

Sheryl covered her face with her cold hands as she dropped back down on the mattress, curling up to a fetal position.

"I feel so tired…" Her voice was barely audible.

"Don't worry, Sheryl," Grace assured the girl with concern laced in her voice; she pulled up a blanket over the weary songstress. "You'll find lots of time to rest," she pushed a pillow under Sheryl's head before silently walking to the door. She flicked the light switch off.

Outside the bedroom, Grace leaned back on the door.

"Yes indeed. You'll have plenty of time to rest." She whispered to no one. A sinister smile on her face.

---

Business was always grim. But of course, business was still business, the man mused, moving papers and photos on the small round table. His station was a small place with only a light bulb to illuminate the darkness. It was cramped with boxes and useless belongings. The place wasn't even fit to be called a rat's home. But strangely, he liked it this way. He was accustomed to the dark.

Perhaps because of all the shady business he was engaged in. He reached for the lighter in his pocket and with one spark, his cigarette was lit. He puffed clouds of smoke, the details of the haze alluring in the dim room.

His newest client had called. Giving him further details on his latest assignment, he also promised enough money to have him set for life. He smiled, inhaling his own fumes. This job was going to be sweet.

Although it was really going to be such a shame…after all, he was very fond of his target's songs.

---

Michel watched Alto make paper planes from Sheryl Nome's posters from a distance while the rest of the team was working on the plans for their aerial routines. From his point of view, Michel saw Alto taking a step to forgetting the past and moving on. Alto had called him and inquired about the acrobatic stunts gig and asked if he could tag in. Of course, Michel said yes in a heartbeat.  
This was the first time Alto voluntarily joined in since about an eternity. Although right now, he wasn't socializing, he was still being part of the team. It had been such a long time, it sort of made him nostalgic.

"Michel-sempai!" Luca called out, who was working on his laptop, "could you have a look at this?"

"Ah. Sure."

Michel walked off to where the rest of the team huddled. From a distance, Alto watched them engage in their lively chat of routine improvisations and safety measurements. He envied the natural flow of their conversations and actions. It was something he had never been really good at…much more when things changed for the worst.  
He sighed and then focused his attention once more to his poster airplane.

His eyes narrowed at the distorted face of Sheryl Nome on the wings of the plane.

For the past days, Alto had worried over every aspect and detail of his plan. He knew it was crazy. Hell, it might not even work. He felt it was the only way to vanish the nightmares and guilt; to forgive himself for his past mistakes and to hopefully give Ranka some peace... Of course, he knew that things might not work out and that everything could go wrong. But he was willing to risk it.

Alto stood up and turned around to the open views. He positioned the plane.

One thing was certain.

With the mastered skill of his Ex-gear, he sent the plane flying off.

It ascended up in the air.

Alto stared after it.

He had nothing to lose.

---

Ranka Lee stared at the rectangular piece of paper in her hands. She smiled as she read the name Sheryl Nome over and over. She could not contain her excitement. She looked up to her brother's grin and gushed.

"Thank you, onii-chan! I was bummed because I couldn't get a ticket in time" She placed the ticket to her idol, Sheryl Nome's concert in-between the book she had been reading when Ozma came in. Settling it to the table, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you! I can't believe you got me one! Just in time too!"

Ozma smirked. "There's nothing your brother wouldn't do for you, Ranka-chan!"

Ranka gave her brother's other cheek a kiss before letting him go. She twirled around in glee, shouting out _Deculture! _Her hair moved along with her jubilant mood. Ozma chuckled watching her spin around while tossing her green cell phone in the air. His chuckling stopped when he felt his mobile vibrate.

With a click and two, he answered it. "Ozma here."

Ranka began chattering away about what to wear for the concert and what shoes to use.

He listened to the caller's report.

She started to walk around in circles, lower lip pouting, thinking about it.

Ozma's hand clenched tightly around his phone while gritting his teeth…

Should she wear the pink or yellow dress?

"What do you mean his VF is missing?" His tone was low and dangerous.

Ranka decided to wear the yellow dress.

---

Excitement was going around in Frontier. Today was Sheryl Nome's concert. Backstage, Michel was overlooking the equipment, making sure that nothing was going to upset the performance and safety rules. As he did his inspection, he couldn't help but notice the frowns of his teammates' faces.

"Guys," Michel tried to lighten their dreary moods. "Why the long _Alto_ faces?"

Luca sulked on. "I can't believe they altered our routine."

Michel sighed. "It can't be helped. It's what the client wants. Too bad they had to remove Alto's corkscrew though, it was"—He turned to his side, expecting to see Alto but was absent.

"What the? He was just here a minute ago."

Luca giggled. Yes, he _actually_ giggled. "Alto-sempai left the moment you asked why we were glum."

Michel exhaled in exasperation. "Damn that idiot skipping off. We still have preparations to do."

---

Sheryl followed Cathy Glass, who was escorting her to her dressing room. As they walked, the only sounds heard were the clicking of their heels and her _Iteza_ song being played from the sound speakers somewhere above.  
Sheryl could see that Cathy was still pissed because of the little snide comment she gave about hiring amateur stunts.

_It's her problem_, Sheryl thought with distaste. She was just being a professional.

They walked on, passing stunned and gawking personnel, who worshiped her with their eyes. It was clear that they wanted to mob her but were obviously given strict orders not to hassle her. Sheryl was used to such treatment. One had to put up with it if they wanted to step up high in the ladder of fame.

Any shy reluctance or hint of discomfort would result to utter plummet and failure. She would have none of that.

She glanced to her side and found someone who wasn't drooling or ogling. In fact, he showed nothing but indifference. His cryptic hazel eyes revealed no keen pleasure at looking at an intergalactic diva such as her.  
He looked to be a student by the uniform he was wearing.

He gazed at Sheryl with an intensity that was totally different from all the lewd and perverted stares she had received in her stardom. There was a powerful substance within his eyes that made her gasp slightly. Unwanted spots of color rose on her cheeks. She returned his rude stare with a phony smile and slight nod.

She decided he was just one of those harsh critics who ranted about her music. When she no longer could see the young man, Sheryl Nome could still feel his heated gaze. She placed a hand over her chest.

She found her heart was still beating fast.

---

_The lights faded…_

_There was nothing but pitch darkness._

_Noise hushed down._

_Everything was still._

_Everything was silent._

_So silent, you could scream._

_Senses heightened. _

_There was a struggle._

_Anticipation so strong, it strangled your every thought._

-

"LISTEN TO MY SONG!" There was a crack of a whip and the stage burned alive with explosive lights and rushing music. The crowd emptied out their lungs with screaming that could not end.

_This is it_. She thought.

-

"Up towards the heavens!" Michel yelled out as they made their grand exhibition.

"You're lagging behind, Alto!"

"Just keep flying!"

_This is it._ Alto thought, as he caught up with the rest.

-

His vantage point was perfect. He could see everything from where he was. Plus an escape could be made easily. His weapon gleamed under the busy flashy lights.

He smiled.

_This is it. _

-

Three people whose intentions couldn't be any more worlds apart had only one common thought in their heads.

---

_Showtime. _


End file.
